“I won’t fight him, but I can help. I can make it so that he’s slower, prone to confusion, to making poor decisions. But he’s a Dread Blaze. You are?”
Scorio just stared at her.
“You’ll have to face him alone. But I can tell you where he is and how to get him. If I do this, will you trust me?”
“No.”
Moira smiled. “A first step, then. The Shoals are full of House Hydra guards and Great Souls, however. You will have to be careful. If he calls for help you will be swamped.”
“How many?”
“Guards? Some fifty. Great Souls? Twelve. Four Flame Vaults, six Dread Blazes, and two Emberlings.”
Scorio’s smile was cold. “Then they’d best not get in my way. Where is Davelos?”
“If we do this…” Moira hesitated, considering. “Your memory has been vilified, Scorio. If you’re seen you will be attacked or at the very least hunted. Most blame you for what happened.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Dameon made sure that your reputation was completely ruined. What I’m saying is that killing Davelos won’t change your immediate situation. You’ll need to get out of the Shoals immediately thereafter. You need to think three steps ahead.”
“You have a suggestion.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’ll work on it. I’ll arrange to arrive on the scene after Davelos’s death. If you trust me enough by that point, I’ll show you how to get out.”
Scorio studied her. “I can’t tell if you’re sincere. I guess that’s what happens when you spend your life lying.”
Moira felt a pang of annoyance but hid it well. “Judge me by my actions. You’ve heard my heart oath.”
“How do I get to Davelos?”
Kyrie’s eyes widened. “You’re going after him now?”
“Now,” said Scorio softly. “What’s coming to him is already two years overdue.”
“He’s in the White Queen’s offices at the top of the fortress. The main approach is both heavily trafficked and guarded. However, there’s a private stairwell used for important guests and officials who want to avoid being seen. I can show you how to access it. Simply climb to the top and you’ll find Davelos there.”
“How can you be sure he’ll be alone?”
“I’ll check in on him.” Moira smiled. “The curse of his genius is that he often grows bored. When his mind begins to wander, I’ll signal for you to begin climbing.”
“Very well.” Scorio rose from the water and again Moira marveled at the hard, dangerous lines of his limbs. What would it take, she wondered, to get him to bed? It would be like mating with a savage wolf.
The thought only enticed her more.
“Let’s be away. Kyrie, wait here. We’ll resume our meeting after this is all settled.”
“I—yes.” Kyrie sank deeper into the water, clearly eager to be free of Scorio’s company.
Moira rose and stepped out, taking up her towel and making sure to dry herself artfully. Scorio wasn’t seeing her as a woman yet, but that might change. And once he did so, she’d have leverage. “Give me a moment to dress and I’ll lead you to my quarters by a private approach. You have House Hydra robes?”
Scorio sneered. “Yes.”
“Good.” She looked him up and down. “Though we’ll need to get you something hooded. The way you are right now it’ll be like trying to sneak a bonfire past the guards.”
“I’ve managed to get around without too much of a problem.”
“A miracle. Your aura. It’s… something else. You’ll have to learn to restrain it in time. But not today. Ready?”
Scorio tied the sash around his bathing robe tightly. His stare was answer enough.
Moira quit the grotto, heart pounding, more excited and hopeful than she’d been in years.
Chapter 50
Scorio padded after Moira, hood pulled down past his nose, shoulders hunched, and doing his damned best to not draw attention. It was hard. His very presence drew frowns and stares as if he reeked.
But it was his aura. He’d no idea what Moira had meant, but its consequences were clear. Especially now that his fury was stoked and choking him. He might as well have dragged a snarling hound alongside him by a chain.
No matter. Moira’s presence stayed any questions.
Scorio allowed his Heart’s senses to range forth. Nothing but Iron and Copper. He hadn’t thought he’d miss Gold so quickly, not after growing to loathe it in the Crucible. But the mana available to him now, even the Iron, felt paltry.
He was doing his best not to think. To not give scope to the pain that sought to howl up from his ruined soul.
They were dead.
Scorio grimaced and pushed the thought away.
They were dead and buried.
Naomi with her sullen intensity and fierce independence. Lianshi with her ever-bright curiosity and iron focus. Leonis, his booming friend, a man of infinite soul and unparalleled generosity.
Put down like dogs by Manticore.
Scorio’s anger caused the Gold in his reservoir to ripple, his body to swell momentarily as his scaled form roiled beneath the skin.
Moira glanced back in alarm and Scorio mastered himself.
Two years.
Two years he’d been locked below. Lost in madness, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. Then awake and training his powers on the saurians. Two years. During which Bastion’s civil advances had been thrown back, Manticore hailed as heroes and rewarded for their perfidy.
Scorio’s rage was as bright as the very tips of his talons.
He’d loathed Manticore for betraying him before. Had spent literal years sharpening his hatred, living for revenge.
But now? Now that great and inchoate fury was condensed to a superdense core.
Nothing would stop him from tracking down each and every Dread Blaze and tearing their heads from their shoulders.
He didn’t care that they were all ranked a level above him. Didn’t care that they were experienced fighters. Nothing would stand in his way.
Naomi.
Lianshi.
Leonis.
His chest shuddered. It was hard to breathe. He felt light as if he might float up at any moment. His strength and power yearned to be given release, to burst forth in a welter of bloody revenge.
Discipline. Control. Focus.
Scorio wrestled his urge to howl down and clenched his jaw. One foe at a time. Davelos was above. He had to focus his might on destroying him. This would be no easy fight. Davelos had access to Gold mana, which meant his golem form would be supremely powerful and his mind sharpened to brilliance. Add in the man’s ability to go ephemeral and Scorio would have to deploy his own powers with care.
But he had surprise. That was his one true advantage. Davelos thought him two years dead. In that moment of horrified surprise Scorio would strike.
Moira took a side door. Scorio passed through it warily. An ambush would not surprise him. He trusted the Pyre Lady not at all, despite her heart oath, but everything she’d revealed had been in line with what he’d already learned. She’d not lied to him, not that he could tell. Even so, if she were leading him into an ambush he’d make sure she fell before he did.
Down a short hall, up a circular flight of stairs, and into another hallway whose expensive rugs and artwork denoted its august nature.
“This connects my suite to that of the other top level administrators such as Davelos,” Moira whispered. “The private staircase lies at the end. Come. The moment is opportune. I once touched his elbow without his noticing, and can now always read his mood. Davelos is focused on reading scrolls, I believe. As soon as I sense his shock I’ll dampen his wits and confuse his mind.”
Scorio gestured for Moira to go first. Her mesmerizing malachite eyes gleamed with amusement, and she inclined her head before striding down the hallway.
“Here,” she said, gesturing to a narrow arch. “Climb swiftly. It’s only two flights. The door opens to the private council room. Davelos’s office is beyond that.”
Scorio waited for Moira to step aside so that there could be no accidental touching then entered the archway without taking his eyes off her.